


Arrangements

by zetuslapetus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23997634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetuslapetus/pseuds/zetuslapetus
Summary: Dean borrows from a loan shark named Rio with no way to pay back forcing Beth to clean up his mess.“What was his name?” she asks.Dean frowns, shakes his head. “Who?”“The man who broke into our home and beat you. The one we owe $300,000 to,” she snaps.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a Dean-borrows-from-loan-shark-Rio-and-cant-pay-it-back-soo-Beth-obviously-offers-her-body-as-payment but that was so filthy to write (in a good way) that it came out too occ. 
> 
> I'm gonna be honest with you guys, I have no idea where this story's going.   
> Please join me in this adventure.

It’s a busy Friday morning. After carpool, Beth drops the dry cleaning off, swings by Fine and Frugal to visit Annie and pick up groceries for dinner. When she arrives back home she realizes Dean’s car is parked on the street. Not thinking much of it, she loads up the groceries and walks inside.

“Dean?” She yells out when she enters the hallway, shuts the door with the back of her heel and heads for the kitchen. 

“I found some pork chops on sale, maybe I can make that sweet and spicy glaze for tonight,” she says, eyes focused down on the bags in her arms as she struggles to juggle them.

“That sounds great,” comes an unfamiliar voice from the kitchen. Beth screams, drops the groceries, pork chops, and all.

There are three strange men in her kitchen and Dean. 

A bloody, beaten Dean.

One of the strangers, a bald, burly man with a full beard, has a very large gun pointed at Dean’s head.

There’s a second one standing closer to the foyer of the living room. 

The third one, closest to her, stands between her and Dean. He’s tall, lean, and dressed completely in black.

“T-There’s no money in the house,” she stutters, taking a step back. “There’s jewelry upstairs.”

The one closest to her takes a step towards her, then she sees the large gun in his hand.  Tears prick at her eyes, she looks back to Dean, then sobs out a  _ please _ . 

“This ain’t a robbery, darling,” the man says. Her eyes jump back to him.

He smiles, turns his body halfway back to Dean to address him.

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

“This has nothing to do with her, just let her go,” Dean finally speaks. 

“Know what?” Beth asks.

The strange man chuckles, looks back at Beth with a look almost reflective of pity.

“Know what, Dean?” Beth yells.

“Your dumbass husband took a loan he can’t pay back, and he’s about to default,” he clarifies for her.

Beth shakes. 

She’s had her suspicions, cards declining, mail going missing; but she refused to believe it, stifling that gut feeling, letting Dean continue taking charge.

“How much?” She asks. Her insides shake, but her voice is surprisingly steady.

“300 g’s,” the man supplies.

The fear in her belly shifts to pure, hot, anger.  Dean isn’t looking at her anymore, he’s staring at the ground.

A moment passes, the house is silent.

The man speaks again, turns to Dean, and points to him with his gun.

“You got a week,” he says, nods to his associates, and turns back to Beth. He walks around her, and the two men follow without another word.

She alternates between screaming and sobbing. Every time she yells and looks at Dean she wants to heave. He’s got a bloody lip, a split eyebrow.  She helps him clean it, dress it. When he tries to explain she silences him with a sharp nod.

She cleans the groceries off the floor, makes pork chops, drinks a fifth of bourbon, and passes out. 

When she wakes, Dean is gone and so are the kids. 

She showers, sobs against the tiles, drinks another bourbon, and calls the girls. 

Twenty minutes later Annie and Ruby are at her kitchen table sporting the same eye-bulging expressions.

“Guys, what am I going to do?”

She sniffs, drops her arms to her sides, defeated, both, physically and emotionally. 

“We can rob Fine and Frugal?” Annie says. “It happens all the time.”

Ruby gives her a sharp look as if to say  _ be serious, this isn’t the time. _

“I’m serious,” Annie exclaims.

“Even if we did, it's still not $300,000. Then what? Keep robbing banks until we have it?” Beth sobs. 

Ruby’s eyes snap to Beth at the thought of her even humoring Annie.

“We go to the cops,” Ruby says with a wave of her hand as if the answer is obvious.

“Loan sharking is illegal, Dean will go to prison and then we’ll lose the house. Oh god, the kids.” Beth sniffs. 

Annie grabs Beth’s glass, pours a full shot, and slides it back to her.

“We’ll think of something, just drink.” 

They do, they drink until Beth can’t remember anymore. Annie gets her into bed and Ruby tucks the kids in. 

She wakes up with a raging hangover and an idea.  She showers, dresses, applies her favorite lipstick and drives to Boland Motors. 

The showroom is almost empty, a few of the salesmen wave at her as she walks through. 

Dean is in his office, face busted, staring into nothing. He perks up when he sees her, it makes her sick all over again.

“Bethie,” he greets her, standing up.

She shuts the door but doesn’t step closer. 

“What was his name?” she asks.

Dean frowns, shakes his head. “Who?”

“The man who broke into our home and beat you. The one we owe $300,000 to,” she snaps. 

“Why?” 

She huffs, growing irritated at his inquiries. 

“What’s his name and where did you find him?” She says pointedly and takes a step closer.

Dean shakes his head again, opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him off with a yell.

“What’s his name, Dean?” 

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to handle it because you couldn’t,” she hisses. 

Half an hour later she’s parked downtown in front of  _ Lucky’s _ . Her hands won’t stop shaking.

It’s dark inside, she almost falters in her step but then she hears faint music. 

To her right, she spots a bartender. He’s drying a glass tumbler behind the bar. He pauses, looks up at her, and speaks.

“We ain’t open.”

She shakes her head.

“I’m not - I’m looking for Rio,” she stutters.

The bartender lifts an eyebrow at her, looks her up and down once before he nods to the right. 

“Upstairs.”

Peering over the bar she spots a staircase tucked in the corner of the room. She nods, says her thanks, and starts up the stairs. 

The music gets louder as she ascends. When she reaches the last step she hears voices. 

She sees him before he sees her. He’s laughing, wearing a simple black shirt, and holding a cue stick. He’s playing pool. She lingers for a brief moment, worried about his reaction in interrupting what’s obviously a personal moment. Then she remembers this is the same man who broke into her house and beat her husband mid-morning. 

She takes a step, the wooden floor beneath her creaks and his eyes snap to her. He looks at her through the frame, and he says her name.

“Elizabeth.” 

He sounds surprised. 

Her breath hitches, he knows her name. How does he know her name? 

When she walks into the room she recognizes his pool partner as the burly, bald man from her kitchen. He gives her a casual nod and lines up his shot.

Rio steps closer with a look at the purse she’s clutching to her body.

“You here to drop my money off?”

She shakes her head. “Not exactly,” she whispers. 

His jaw shifts, the smile fades from his face and he rolls his shoulders back. That’s when she sees the tattoo splattered across his neck.

How could she have missed it the first time? 

Was it the guns or the sight of her beaten husband that distracted her, she wonders. 

He dips his head down, trying to meet her eyes as she openly gawks at him. She blinks, blushes when she realizes he’d caught her ogling him. 

“We don’t have that type of money, not now, not in a week. There is something else we have.”

She knows her pitch, she’d even practiced in the car on the way here. 

He steps forwards, too close. He's invading her personal space in a way no one has in a long time. She lifts her chin to keep his eye contact, refusing to step back. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see his partner staring at them. 

The way Rio looks at her only deepens the blush on her cheeks. She regrets her choice of clothing this morning, but her wrap dress was the easiest thing to put on. 

_ And take off.  _

“And what’s that?” He asks. 

“Boland Motors. We’d be willing to make you a partner, 50-50. That’s worth more than what we owe.”

She finishes with a shaky breath. 

He blinks, face blank. She can’t read him and it gnaws at her. 

“Boland Motors is the reason car man came to me for money, that place is a black hole. I ain’t interested.” 

He shakes his head, his eyes fall to her mouth then her chest. 

“What else are you offering?” 

The implication is filthy. Her stomach flutters, a release of adrenaline shoots through her. 

“What do you want?” It comes out quieter than she intended. 

“I want my money.” He responds, just as quiet. “So if you don’t have it, go make it.”

“What happens if I can’t?”

“Nothin’ good.” 

She scoffs. 

“How am I gonna make $300,000,” she asks, a little louder. 

His eyes jump up to her face, they roam the edges of her face where her hair falls before he looks her in the eyes once again. 

“You could work for me.”

She recoils, wraps her arms around her middle in a meek attempt to hide her body. It does nothing but pushes her cleavage together. 

He smirks before he speaks. 

“Not like that, mamma. No one here’s gonna touch you, not unless you ask for it.” 

_ Ask for it.  _

As if. 

A beat passes. 

“What is it that you do?” She asks, curiosity getting the best of her. 

He’s young, definitely younger than her but the way he moves is smooth, calculated. She wonders how he got that tattoo, who those men were, and why they follow him. 

He laughs, looks back at his friend and they exchange a silent joke. 

“You got a passport?” He asks her. 


End file.
